


A Chance to Come Home

by yikescaninot



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Angry Sex, Angst, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kyoutani gets the shit end of the stick, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Smut, Violence, it gets fluffier at the end, promise!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 15:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikescaninot/pseuds/yikescaninot
Summary: In Kyoutani’s experience, there really wasn’t a lot of variation to how people reacted to their own death. The man tried bribing Kyoutani, saying he would make it worth his while. What Kyoutani wanted couldn’t be bought, and so it had taken little thought to break the man’s neck and drop him to the floor.





	A Chance to Come Home

**Author's Note:**

> This ran away from me a bit! I didn't anticipate it being so long. (¯∇¯٥)  
> Please enjoy, and feel free to scream at me in the comment section below! I was not nice to our boys in this fic.   
> Posted in time for Kyoutani's birthday! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

In Kyoutani’s experience, there really wasn’t a lot of variation to how people reacted to their own death. He could usually expect people to behave in one of four ways. Some people begged for him to look the other way, saying they’d skip town, that they’d never be seen again. Some people cried, soaked by the puddles they’d pissed in fear, apologizing over and over again until they didn’t have the breath left to continue. Few accepted their fate with a steady gaze despite their trembling hands. Fewer yet pleaded for their family’s lives to be spared. Those ones always made him feel the worst, but he never felt it necessary to point out the job didn’t include collateral damage. He wasn’t big on talking to the people he was sent to kill. It humanized them.

The man slouched against the wall at his feet had that first reaction. He had tried bribing Kyoutani, saying he would make it worth his while. Anything Kyoutani wanted would be his, whether it was money, girls, fast cars,  _ anything _ . He just had to name it. What Kyoutani wanted couldn’t be bought, and so it had taken little thought to break the man’s neck and drop him to the floor. 

Kyoutani liked to work in silence. He found it more calming knowing that he could hear everything going on around him, and inside of him. If he let the adrenaline cloud his judgement, he could make mistakes. Mistakes meant that someone was getting hurt and he had spent the last four years trying to keep that from happening. If a mark was listening to music when he arrived, he sometimes left it on if he suspected they’d put up a fight. It wasn’t often they fought back but when they did it was never quiet. 

He craved a time when things were truly quiet and peaceful in his life. 

After arranging the body at the base of a stairwell, he pulled out his cellphone and tapped on one of the seven contacts he had. It was simply keyed into his phone as ‘ _ Hisashi _ ’ and was the only incoming or outgoing call listed for as long as his call history kept record.

“That was fast,” came a low, rumbling voice from the other line. 

Kyoutani grunted in response, heading out a side door into a narrow alley. Keeping the phone pinched between his ear and shoulder, he tugged off his gloves. He glanced around to make sure nobody had seen him slip out of the building before turning left and exiting out onto the street. It was still early so the few people that he did walk by kept their heads down, probably waiting for their coffee or will to live to kick in. Whichever one they had more of that morning. 

He shrugged off the light grey canvas jacket he wore, stuffing it into his backpack and swinging the bag back over his shoulders with practiced efficiency. He didn’t bother folding it nicely. Even the new ones wrinkled after a few jobs, and this one would be no different. Making sure his sleeves were down all the way, he glanced at the surrounding shops, the majority of which were still closed. 

“The money will be wired to you, same as usual. The boss has been pleased with your focus as of late,” the voice added like an aside, indirect and distant-sounding. “And, Kyouken? Good job today.” The phone clicked into silence.

Kyoutani stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, phone raised to his ear despite the dead dial tone. His glare must have been even more prominent as the few people who almost ran into him quickly silenced their complaints and hurried around him. The name sat heavy in his stomach, burning a hole in anger. The first time he was dubbed Mad Dog, it was by someone who would become a friend, family if Kyoutani dared get sentimental, who hadn’t meant it insultingly, albeit a bit condescendingly. The only time it was ever used now was to remind him of his place. 

He shoved his hands, and phone, into his pockets before hunching his shoulders and making his way down the street. His stomach growled at him as he headed in the direction of his apartment, and upon seeing a pastry bag being carried by some office-worker-looking lady, he decided to change up his routine and grab breakfast on the way back. 

His steps slowed when he realized that he was walking on the opposite side of the street as the university. He stopped entirely, looking across at the groups of buildings. Pain constricted around his heart at the sight of it, and he had nobody to blame but himself. He gripped the straps of his backpack tighter and went to turn back to the storefronts behind him when dread shot down his spine like icicles. 

Across the street Matsukawa and Yahaba were in the middle of a conversation, walking leisurely towards, presumably, a morning class. 

He knew he didn’t deserve to take in the sight of his old friend and ex, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Yahaba looked good. He always had, but now he looked  _ happy _ . Without him. The desire to call out to them was choked off at the back of his throat, the need to run across the street hindered by his cemented feet. Guilt made him cold in the face of what he’d tried so hard to avoid for the past three years since he’d left. 

He knew he didn’t actually call out, the blood he could taste from the inside of his cheek he bit told him as much, but Matsukawa looked up anyways. He looked shocked for all of a second before his usual bored expression took the lead again. 

Kyoutani spun around, berating himself for indulging in a moment’s foolishness when it could put Matsukawa and Yahaba in danger. He walked into the first building he saw, coincidentally a bakery, and the smell of baked bread soothed his frayed nerves. His hands shook, but his shoulders started to untense. He stepped closer to the display cases to see what was being sold that day.

A hand gripped his shoulder tightly, and his own flew to where he kept his pocket knife as he turned quickly. Matsukawa blinked at him in surprise at the quick reaction, not recognizing it for the danger it was, and frowned down at him. 

“Looks like you’re not dead after all,” he said, arching a brow. 

Kyoutani looked away, wishing he could shrink in on himself and disappear. He didn’t want this. The familiar treatment would make disappearing so much harder this time around. He fucked up.

“Listen to me, Kentarou-” Kyoutani flinched at his given name. “Whatever happened that made you go off grid probably isn’t as bad as you think it is. We’re worried about you, Iwaizumi especially. Oikawa and Yahaba, well, they’re probably still a little angry but that’s to be expected. Whatever’s going on, you can talk to us. You can always come home.” 

“I can’t.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Matsukawa frown. What did he look like to his senpai, he wondered. He must have cut quite the pathetic figure if Matsukawa was talking to him so consolingly. 

“Fine. But you’re going to give me the address of where you’re staying now, and Makki and I are dropping by after classes to make sure you’re doing okay. We don’t have to tell anybody if you don’t want. But the first time I see you after three years and you’re making such a sad face? You’re going to accept my concern.” When Kyoutani didn’t respond right away, Matsukawa frowned and gripped his shoulder tighter. “Or do I need to keep you here until Iwaizumi and Oikawa show up in fifteen to pick up breakfast for everyone?” 

Kyoutani tensed at this, looked up at Matsukawa with what could only be interpreted as panic. 

“It’s your choice.” 

That was a lie. Kyoutani hadn’t been able to make a choice for himself in four years. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and opened up a new message with one of the seven contacts in his list. He typed in his address and hit send before pocketing his phone again with a scowl. He refused to look at Matsukawa. 

“You still have the same number,” the other commented quietly after checking the notification on his phone. There was something in his voice that made Kyoutani glance to him. Matsukawa’s eyebrows were pinched in a frown, but he looked more troubled than upset. 

“You won’t tell the others you saw me?” 

“I told you I wouldn’t.” 

Kyoutani nodded and glanced back to the register. He sighed and turned to leave, not feeling up to eating anymore, when Matsukawa’s hand stopped him again. 

“Pick something out,” he said as he steered Kyoutani back in the direction of the register before lifting his phone to his ear. “Yeah. Don’t bother picking up the pastries. I’m already here so I’ll grab them. Nah, I ran into someone from class. Yahaba?” Matsukawa glanced to Kyoutani, whose shoulders tensed up to his ears at the name. “Already at the usual spot by now, probably. Told him to go on ahead.” He pointed to several things in the display case, giving a small, apologetic smile to the woman working behind the counter for being on the phone. She waved him away with a bright smile and he turned to pay, phone still tucked between his ear and shoulder. Kyoutani could hear Oikawa loudly complaining from where he stood. “Remind Oikawa he gets the same thing every week, even if he ‘wants to see what else there is.’ Yeah, yeah. See you shortly.” 

After a moment of silence, Kyoutani glanced to him. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, or where you’ve been, but somebody has to look out for you.” Matsukawa picked up the bag of pastries. “See you after noon.” 

Kyoutani watched him leave the bakery silently before he took his own bagged pastry, bowing quickly to the woman in thanks. She smiled at him but he could tell she was surprised at that. Not many people expected manners from someone who looked like a delinquent. Three years or not, he still pictured Iwaizumi punching him for being rude. 

He hesitated by the door of the bakery, for a fleeting moment entertaining the idea that maybe Matsukawa had lied and everybody was waiting outside the door for him. He could feel a cold sweat starting at the thought. It had become easy to plan and carry out hits. Too easy, in fact. The thought of being confronted by the people he cared about the most?  _ Terrified _ him. He had gotten used to being alone growing up because of his looks, but actively throwing away the love and friendship he’d found, out of fear, was something he didn’t think he could ever atone for. If he was seen around them… 

Another customer came in, eyeing him warily when he just stood there, rooted to the spot. Through the briefly open doorway, he glanced around and exhaled slowly. He didn’t recognize any of the faces that were waiting to cross the street. He unfroze and left the bakery, quickly turning into an alley and off the main streets. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach eating the pastry now, but he didn’t have the heart to throw it away, so he took it with him back to his apartment. 

He lived in a shitty dive of an apartment above a bar that looked like it should have been shut down for fronting some shady business ages ago. He took the stairs -- one hundred and twenty-five of them -- up the side of the building two at a time, going to the fourth floor, the top floor. The carpet lining the hallway was threadbare and pulling away from the walls. It stunk remotely of piss and stale cigarettes, and the wallpaper was peeling or completely ripped off in sections, but he didn’t need fancy. Didn’t want or deserve it, in his mind. Unlocking the last door on the right, he walked into his apartment. 

Despite the state of the rest of the building, he kept his apartment spotless. The walls were at least three shades whiter than they had been when he first moved in, and the floors shone. The smell of stale cigarettes still lingered in the unit, but it was infinitely better after a summer of briefly opened windows and scrubbed… everything. His apartment was one open room, just large enough for him to fit a single mattress and small bookshelf in the half of the room that wasn’t kitchen. Near the door was a closet and a bathroom, and if he felt like getting fresh air, he could take a step out onto the welcome-mat sized balcony and stand there. 

He peeled off his clothes, tossing them onto a duffel bag beside his bed and went to start the shower. The pipes rattled in the wall and he wiped a hand down his face, waiting for the water to run clear and heat up. It took forty-seven seconds.

He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar warmth of memories taking his attention. 

_ “Ken, you’re going to use up all the hot water,” Shigeru whined outside the bathroom door. Kentarou could picture the way his boyfriend pouted, holding his change of clothes to his chest.  _

_ “You could always join me,” he called back, not bothering to lift his head out of the stream of water. He grinned to himself hearing the grumbling from the hall. Less than a minute later he heard the bathroom door open and clothes hit the floor.  _

_ Shigeru’s face peeked around the shower door before he stepped in. His arms made their way around Kentarou’s waist, leaning against the broader male’s back comfortably.  _

_ “You’re going to get all wrinkly, standing in here for so long.” Kentarou could feel the way Shigeru’s nose scrunched at that, the brunette’s face pressed into the side of his neck.  _

_ “I’ll live,” he said with a snort before turning around to pull Shigeru flush against him. He smiled faintly, nudging his boyfriend’s head up in order to kiss him.  _

_ They stood like that, wrapped around each other trading slow kisses until the water started running cold. Shigeru gasped and cursed Kentarou for distracting him, smacking at the blonde until he got out of the shower, leaving laughter in his wake. Kentarou smiled to himself, his chest filled with an affectionate warmth as he dried off, listening to Shigeru race through his shower routine before the water got too cold, complaining about dry hair and skin the entire time.  _

Kyoutani opened his eyes under the spray of the shower. The water was already cold and it had only been running four minutes, ten seconds. He turned the water off with three quick turns of the knobs and stepped out. He didn’t glance at himself in the mirror anymore. He would look to make sure he shaved his hair down even when it was time, but the man that glared back at him wasn’t who he was. He dried off quickly and pulled on a pair of sweatpants before walking out to his bed, already made as he never saw a point in putting it away. 

He looked at his phone, surprised to see the notification light blinking until he remembered Matsukawa stopping by. He hesitated a moment before bringing up the new message. 

         [08:42] Matsukawa Issei: 

              >> _ Two lectures and a lab. Don’t skip town in the meantime. Don’t worry; didn’t tell anyone but Makki. _

He snorted slightly and tossed his phone back onto the top of the bookshelf beside his old laptop. Normally he would watch a movie or two before crashing after a hit, but with the earlier panic combined with the strain of the job itself, he just wanted to get a few hours in before Matsukawa and Hanamaki showed up. He curled up, clutching a pillow to his chest. 

 

* * *

 

Kyoutani jolted awake. His phone was ringing on the bookshelf and there was a banging at the door. He got up quickly and went to the door, peeking through the peephole.

“I can hear his phone ringing so he didn’t just bail,” he could hear Matsukawa grumble to someone else in the hall. He couldn’t make out the response, but it sounded like Hanamaki.

He licked his lips slightly and went to rub the sleep out of his eye, feeling the indentations in his cheek from the pillow. Hesitantly he unlocked the deadbolt, waited a second for Matsukawa to take a step back, then opened the door. 

As promised, Matsukawa stood in the hall, Hanamaki looking surprised beside him. It was probably because he didn’t have blonde hair anymore, Kyoutani rationalized. At a familiar angry gasp, his head whipped around to see Yahaba standing behind Hanamaki, a bit further down the hall looking like he was trying not to let anything touch him. 

A million feelings must have crossed his face, the least of which being relief, regret and pain, and it was enough to give Yahaba pause before the man turned towards Matsukawa and Hanamaki angrily. 

“What the fuck is this? You said you ran into a  _ friend _ this morning,” he accused, his words almost a hiss. 

“He is a friend, and you two need to talk.” There were no tells in Matsukawa’s expression, sounding as even-toned as ever. 

“You didn’t give me a choice!” 

“You wouldn’t have come if you knew.” 

“That doesn’t mean you pull shit like this, Matsun!” 

“You look good, Shigeru. I’m glad to see you doing well,” Kyoutani said in a low voice, breaking the tension in the hallway. Whether it was the slip of the given name, or the rare fragility to his tone, three sets of eyes turned onto him in surprise. He glanced to Yahaba before taking a step back into his apartment to shut the door, avoiding looking at any of them.

“No, I don’t think so,” Yahaba growled, stomping forward and pushing the door open, but not quite stepping past the threshold into the apartment. “You owe me some fucking answers.” 

“Talk,” Matsukawa said, looking at Kyoutani pointedly. “We’ll see you at supper tonight, Yahaba.” He took Hanamaki’s hand, leading him away from the apartment door and back towards the staircase. 

“Shi- Ya-” Kyoutani closed his eyes with a grimace, craving the familiarity but not wanting to upset Yahaba further. He rocked back on his heels with a sharp impact to his cheek, eyes opening wide in surprise. He could taste blood on his tongue, no doubt in his mind that his teeth had cut into the inside of his cheek a bit from the punch. He lifted a hand to his face, looking at Yahaba standing in the doorway, shaking in his anger, fists clenched. 

Yahaba took the step into the apartment, slamming the door shut behind himself and dropping his bag on the ground. He took another step forward, pushing Kyoutani hard, pretty face contorted in a scowl. 

“Don’t you dare. You fucking ghost for three years, letting me think the  _ worst _ , and think we can go back to a first name basis? Don’t you fucking dare.”

Kyoutani stood in silence, not looking at Yahaba. His hands clenched at his sides but he forced them to relax. He deserved the anger. He would have been angry, too, in Yahaba’s position. 

“I’m sorry,” Kyoutani said evenly, lifting his head to look at Yahaba properly. “You should go.” 

Yahaba’s jaw dropped. “You’re not even going to tell me why you left in the first place? What I did to make you leave without even saying goodbye?” Hurt shone through the anger on his face, and Kyoutani felt his gut twist at the expression. 

“You were perfect, Yahaba.  _ Are _ perfect,” he amended, taking a careful step forward. He stopped himself from reaching for the other though.

“Then why?” 

“I can’t tell you. The less you know, the better.”

“Bullshit. That’s a cop-out answer, and you fucking know it,” Yahaba spat and made to push Kyoutani again.

He caught Yahaba’s forearms, and the fire he saw burning in the other’s eyes had him on the court again, sixteen years old with his back against a wall mid-game. Honestly, every time he thought back to the day, he was surprised he didn’t pop a boner courtside. Being manhandled by Yahaba that day made him realize why he was so angry any time the other flirted with girls. At the back of his mind he wondered if that was why Yahaba was being so pushy now; to remind him. 

Yahaba’s eyes widened in surprise, and Kyoutani could feel him trembling, but there was no fear in those eyes. 

Inner conflict resolved, Kyoutani used his hold on his ex’s arms to pull him in closer. The kiss he caught Yahaba in was far from perfect. Their teeth clashed, their noses bumped, and it was messy, but when Yahaba met him halfway with every push of his lips, it felt damn near euphoric. The noise Yahaba made into the kiss went straight through him and he pushed Yahaba back against the wall, letting go of his arms in order to undo his jacket and push it down. There was nothing gentle in the way he pushed, but he still had half a mind to not hurt Yahaba. 

Yahaba bit down on his lip almost painfully before pulling it between his teeth and sucking on the plumping flesh. He released it, tongue darting out to wet it slightly before he leaned back into the kiss. Yahaba’s fingers dug hard into Kyoutani’s shoulders as his own fingers were slipped under Yahaba’s shirt, trailing across the hot skin underneath. 

“No,” Yahaba interrupted his thoughts. Kyoutani was pushed back half a step and for a brief second, he worried he had fucked up. Then Yahaba’s shirt hit the floor, soon followed by his pants. Yahaba stepped back in close, invading Kyoutani’s space and reaching a hand down the front of his sweatpants. 

Kyoutani exhaled heavily through his nose, a hand bracing against the wall beside Yahaba’s shoulder as his hand wrapped around Kyoutani’s hardening length. His forehead dropped onto Yahaba’s shoulder before tilting to nuzzle his lips against the curve of the other’s throat, his hips canting forward into Yahaba’s touch. He grunted slightly when Yahaba’s hand tightened almost painfully. 

“Don’t be sweet about it,” came Yahaba’s clipped tone near his ear. The anger was still ever-present in his voice, but now his voice was low, thick with need.

_ Fine. _

“Let go,” Kyoutani ordered, nipping at Yahaba’s throat before sucking on the tender flesh, marking it. He could feel Yahaba’s jumping pulse under his tongue. 

His hands slid down to grip Yahaba’s ass, hoisting the other easily up around his waist. He tilted his head up, accepting the hungry kisses that Yahaba tried drowning him in. He groaned slightly, and he could feel Yahaba’s cock twitch in interest at the sound, heavy against his stomach.

He carried Yahaba to the small bed and moved down to his knees, legs braced as he leaned over to lower the brunette without dropping him. Yahaba’s fingers dug into his shoulders, back arching to press up against him. 

Kyoutani sat up, leaning back on his heels as he kneeled between Yahaba’s thighs. He looked the other over as if memorizing the sight of his red, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and leaking cock. 

“What are you waiting for?” Yahaba scowled, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Three fucking years, Yahaba. Let me just look at you a second.” 

“I don’t think so,” Yahaba said, tone clipped. He pushed Kyoutani back, tugged his sweatpants off and moved to straddle him, looking around before finding the bottle of lube Kyoutani had on the nearby shelf. 

At the accusing look in Yahaba’s glare, Kyoutani took the lube from him and covered two of his own fingers. One hand holding Yahaba’s hips steady, fingertips pressed in almost hard enough to bruise, the other moved until he could circle the brunette’s rim. “I’m no saint. What did you expect?” He nearly growled.

“How many- ah!” Yahaba’s breath hitched when Kyoutani pressed into him, making to stretch him. He rolled his hips forward, his forearms braced around Kyoutani’s shoulders. 

As Kyoutani worked Yahaba open, he dragged open mouthed kisses across his collarbone and up to his jaw. He could feel Yahaba tremble against the supportive arm around his lower back before he curled his fingers slightly. When he heard the other gasp out a breathy ‘fuck,’ he knew he’d hit his mark. 

Nothing compared to watching and feeling Yahaba come undone. He was so goddamn responsive to every kiss and bite Kyoutani left wherever he could reach, to every thrust of his fingers aimed for his prostate. Kyoutani revelled in every gasp and moan. 

“Condom and fuck me,” Yahaba groaned. “ _ Now _ .”

Kyoutani paused then pulled his hand back, wiping his fingers on the sheets. “I, uh, I don’t have any.” He frowned slightly, rubbing circles on Yahaba’s hip absently. 

Yahaba looked at him, clarity cutting through the blown out look in his eyes. Without moving out of Kyoutani’s lap, he reached for the wallet in his discarded jeans, then the foil wrapper within. He bit the corner of the packet, tearing it open before rolling it onto Kyoutani without hesitation. 

“Now,” he urged again, rolling his hips forward against Kyoutani. 

“Fuck,” Kyoutani hissed through clenched teeth before lining himself up and guiding Yahaba’s hips down. 

Yahaba’s eyes flashed dangerously before sinking down onto Kyoutani. With two quick snaps of his hips, his ass was seated firmly in Kyoutani’s lap and he was holding onto his shoulders with a low moan. 

Kyoutani’s head was swimming at the sensation of being buried deep, Yahaba’s breath fanning against his neck and ear in soft pants. He could feel the flex of Yahaba’s strong thighs around him and he slid his hands from knee to hip before moving around to grip at Yahaba’s ass. 

“You good?” Kyoutani asked, needing Yahaba to move before he shot off like a horny teen during his first time. 

“Are you this thoughtful to everyone else you’ve fucked since me?” Yabaha scowled. 

“Is that what you think?” He bit back a growl of frustration, and quickly shifted their positions, pressing Yahaba’s upper back into the mattress. He glared down at the other, one hand by Yahaba’s shoulder supporting his weight, the other on Yahaba’s hip. Not even the moan that escaped from Yahaba distracted him. “You think I’ve been fucking around this entire time?” 

“Have you?” 

“You don’t know the first fucking thing.” His hips snapped forward in punctuation, anything Yahaba could say in retaliation dying with a loud moan. “It’s only been you. It’s only  _ ever _ been you!” Kyoutani growled out, fucking into Yahaba at a pace that had him rocking into the mattress. 

Yahaba covered his eyes with a forearm, his moans hiccoughing out. When Kyoutani saw him bite his lip to stifle himself, he slowed his thrusting into long drags that felt like fire through his limbs. Nothing about Yahaba’s responses to his touch said pain, but he hesitated nonetheless.

“You fucking idiot,” Yahaba choked out. His arm moved from shielding his face, tears shown tracking from the corners of his eyes, and he pulled Kyoutani down with a hand on the back of his neck into a desperate kiss. 

Kyoutani’s hand on Yahaba’s hip slid around until he held the other close, the embrace secured with both of Yahaba’s arms moving around his shoulders. His thrusts stayed slow and shallow, only deep enough to contact Yahaba’s prostate. He swallowed every shaking breath from Yahaba as they kissed until the other pulled back to look at him. Their noses bumped and foreheads pressed together as every roll of their hips carried three years’ worth of apologies and lonely nights. 

When he felt himself getting close, Kyoutani moved a hand between them to stroke Yahaba’s length in time with his thrusts. It didn’t take long for Yahaba to be spilling over his stomach and Kyoutani’s hand, his hips stuttering against Kyoutani’s. Kyoutani leaned down, capturing Yahaba’s moan in another searing kiss as he chased his own release, hips slowing to a stop. 

Yahaba’s nails trailed over his shoulders, and he shuddered at the sensation, catching his breath against the other’s neck. He could feel a hum of contentment from Yahaba and he snorted faintly in amusement before pulling back, discarding the spent condom. Yahaba barely let him out of reach. 

“Did you mean it?” Yahaba whispered when Kyoutani settled back between his thighs, in no hurry to unwrap his legs from Kyoutani’s hips. 

Kyoutani nodded, pressing a kiss to Yahaba’s thumping pulse. “Only you,” he added when Yahaba remained silent. 

He felt something damp against his temple and he lifted his head to see the tears in Yahaba’s eyes again. He could see the lines of strain around the other’s eyes, could recognize the fatigue. He brushed a thumb against Yahaba’s cheek gently, pressing soft kisses to the corner of his eyes. 

“I’m not mad,” Kyoutani continued. “Can’t be, if you saw other people. Have no right to be jealous. Would be a lie if I said I wasn’t, though.” 

He almost pulled back in surprise when Yahaba gave a wet laugh and pressed his face into the crook of Kyoutani’s neck. 

“There wasn’t anybody. I kept hoping you’d come home.” 

Kyoutani moved his weight from pressing down on Yahaba to lay beside him. He collected the other in his arms, and tucked Yahaba close to his chest. He couldn’t put into words the relief he felt, but he imagined it was similar to what Yahaba was feeling. Closing his eyes, he listened to Yahaba’s tears until they slowly silenced and the other’s breathing evened out. 

He laid there, next to Yahaba, just holding him for a moment. He was weak, but gods he missed this man. He gently brushed some hair from the other’s face, and before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. He untangled himself from Yahaba carefully. 

Kyoutani got up slowly, reaching for his sweatpants where they’d been tossed, and padded quietly to the bathroom to clean up. He wet a cloth for Yahaba but froze just outside the bathroom door on his way back. Yahaba had curled up on his side, an arm over his face, and from the way his shoulders were shaking, Kyoutani could only assume he was crying. Kyoutani’s heart squeezed. 

He hurried over, setting the cloth on the floor and moved Yahaba’s arm gently, looking down to him. Yahaba started at being touched before his face crumpled in relief and he pressed himself against Kyoutani’s chest. 

“I thought you’d left again…” 

Kyoutani’s arms wrapped around Yahaba instantly, holding him close. He moved carefully, not letting go of the other as he sat down on the mattress, his legs on either side of Yahaba’s body. Kyoutani pressed his cheek to Yahaba’s hair, a hand rubbing his back firmly. 

“I never wanted to leave the first time, but it was for your own safety.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Yahaba sniffed, pushing against Kyoutani’s chest enough that he could look up at him, but not enough that he pushed out of the embrace.

Kyoutani was silent for a long moment, his hand still rubbing Yahaba’s back of its own volition. He could feel a weariness creep into his features, making the already-dark bags under his eyes seem darker, and he avoided looking directly at Yahaba. 

“Do you remember just before graduation when I missed a day of class and wouldn’t tell you why? Came to school the next day all bruised up?” He waited until Yahaba gave the affirmative that he did remember. “Saw a dog on the way to school and - stop looking at me like that. Of course there was a dog. Tch. Followed it. Ended up behind one of the markets and I, uh, saw something I shouldn’t have.” He turned his head away completely so Yahaba’s face was only in his peripherals, frowning at the memory.

_ There had been men arguing loudly, and he had hidden. Kentarou crouched behind a garbage bin, holding the small akita puppy to his chest, not caring if it got his school uniform dirty. He hushed it softly, scratching it behind its ears to try and keep it content enough to not make any noise. Peeking around the edge of the trash, he inhaled sharply, eyes widening. He watched as a man pulled a long pocket knife from the chest of another before casually wiping it on the dead man’s jacket and pocketing it.  _

_ In his shock, he had stopped petting the dog and it barked its displeasure at him, nudging his hand forcefully. The man whirled around at the noise and Kentarou cursed, springing up and running down the back road, clutching the dog close. The garbage can he had been crouched behind went rolling with a loud clatter away from him but it was hardly an obstacle. Kentarou didn’t look behind him but the sound of the man’s footsteps didn’t slow down at all.  _

_ A hand grabbed the back of his uniform jacket and he grunted, half choked as he was pulled roughly to a stop. He tried to drop the dog as carefully as he could, but it still turned and nipped at his ankle with a growl before running away.  _

_ “Who the fuck do you work for?” The man pushed him against the back of a building, one hand still holding on tight to a fistful of uniform, the other twisting Kentarou’s left arm behind his back. _

_ Kentarou remained silent. He didn’t have an answer for the man. His father didn’t want him working part-time while he was in school, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the type of employment being called into question now.  _

_ The man pulled him back then slammed him against the wall again, and Kentarou grunted slightly in pain but didn’t say anything.  _

_ “Fine. Wanna play like that? Boss’ll have ya singing,” the man all but growled before everything went dark.  _

_ When Kentarou came to, his head felt like it was splitting in two and he was handcuffed to a metal armchair in the center of a nicely decorated apartment. It looked western in design and style, and had a fireplace on the central wall. Despite the warm time of year, the fireplace was lit.  _

_ “Now, Kyoutani-” Kentarou jerked slightly at his name, twisting around to look at a man, handsomely dressed in a finely pressed red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and black slacks. His hair was longer, side swept and reminded him a little of Oikawa’s. He was standing at a table, the contents of Kentarou’s schoolbag spread out in front of him. “I can see that by what you’re carrying with you in this bag here that you’re no threat to my operation. Thugs and delinquents don’t usually wear the uniforms of private schools when they’re working, after all. My … employee failed to recognize that, so we find ourselves in a bit of a predicament, don’t we?”  _

_ Kentarou watched as the man turned towards him fully, and he caught sight of a knife behind held casually in one hand. He eyed the blade, his gaze flicking between the man’s face and it.  _

_ “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve taken the liberty of adding several contacts into your phone. When one of them calls, you  _ will _ answer your phone, and you will follow any and all instructions given. Do you understand?”  _

_ Kentarou scowled.  _

_ “If you want to make this difficult, we can pay one Yahaba Shigeru a visit. He seems to be important to you.” Kentarou must have paled, or provided some sort of satisfactory reaction, because the man smiled easily at him then. “I thought you might not like that. Like I said, Kyoutani. You unfortunately have seen something you should not have, and now I need to keep an eye on you. As I’m not in the practice of killing children, you will instead work for me. Any disobedience will result in a visit to someone you care about. Do I make myself clear?”  _

_ Kentarou’s shoulders sagged. He could feel angry tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Did he not get a fucking choice? _

_ “I said,” the man said sharply, advancing quickly and pressing the knife to the underside of Kentarou’s chin. “Do I make myself clear?”  _

_ “Yes,” Kentarou said after a moment, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.  _

_ “Thatta boy.” The man’s scowl turned into a smile once more and he patted Kentarou’s cheek with the flat of the blade. With one fast downward swipe of the knife, he cut through the sleeve of Kentarou’s uniform jacket, and ripped the fabric to expose his forearm. “That wasn’t so hard now was it?”  _

_ Kentarou grit his teeth in pain, watching blood swell out of the cut.  _

_ A man he hadn’t noticed in the room before stepped forward with a poker he had pulled out of the fire. If the first man reminded him of Oikawa, the second definitely reminded him of Iwaizumi. He had a no-nonsense expression on his face, and his hair was clipped short. Instead of being dressed finely, he wore a simple black shirt and dark wash jeans.  _

_ The first man took the poker. Kentarou could see the end was shaped and he felt a cold wave of fear wash over him, tugging at his secured wrists.  _

_ “Just a reminder, Kyoutani. Don’t mind. Think of it as an employee I.D.” The man’s smile twisted into something sharp and cold before he pressed the white-hot end of the brand to Kentarou’s exposed arm.  _

_ He must have passed out from the pain, because when he came to a second time, he was slouched over in the passenger seat of a car. The second man from the apartment was driving, and, when Kentarou came to, glanced over.  _

_ “Sorry, kid. Raito - the boss man - has a flair for the dramatics. Name’s Hisashi. I’ll probably be the one in contact with you the most.” They pulled up in front of the apartment building Kentarou lived in with his dad. “Sorry it had to be like this. Shit happens. Get out.”  _

_ His head foggy, he unclipped his seatbelt. He went to go open the car door when he noticed his school bag at his feet. He grabbed the strap of it and swung it over his shoulder as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. When the car door closed, he stared at the man until the car pulled away from the curb, merging with the traffic and disappearing from sight. Turning slowly, Kentarou made his way into the apartment building, thankful for once that his father worked so much. He wouldn’t have to worry about explaining why he missed school.  _

Yahaba had pulled away from the embrace completely by the time his recounting was finished. He stared at Kyoutani in shock before fully taking in the sight of him. No doubt he would see the new scars, the added muscle mass, the scarred brand on his left forearm that he had, until now, always kept covered somehow or distracted Yahaba from through sheer dumb luck. 

Yahaba’s thumb brushed over the brand lightly. It was slightly larger than a 500 yen coin and looked vaguely like a twisting dragon. It had healed as well as Kyoutani could have hoped, only slightly raised from his skin and pale enough that it wasn’t too noticeable if he pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. 

“Wait.” Yahaba’s voice cut through the silence. “If this happened before high school graduation, then what the fuck happened for you to just bail out eight months later? Why didn’t you tell anybody? Why didn’t you tell  _ me _ ?” 

“I was a scared kid,” he said with a frown. His eyes were on the brand still being rubbed in slow circles by the other. Did he realize he was still doing that? Kyoutani wondered. “They threatened you. I thought I could figure it out on my own without bringing you or the others into it. Gods, I- you have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you.” Kyoutani looked to Yahaba imploringly, his brows furrowed. 

“And when you left?” Yahaba’s face was carefully blank. Kyoutani knew that face. It was the one Yahaba wore when he was trying to keep control of his emotions and give himself time to think through his reactions. He had worn it their last volleyball game of their high school career, when he addressed the team for the last time as captain. 

“I was called in. I assumed it was another job. When I got there, they had pictures of you on the table. You going to work. You going to school. You  _ in _ school. They’d been tagging you from day one. Boss said I wasn’t focused. Said I had too many distractions. Asked if he should get rid of the distractions for me.” 

Yahaba paled. He brought his knees up to his chest, wincing slightly at what Kyoutani could only assume was an ache in his lower back. He looked so small in that moment. Kyoutani wanted to hold him again, offer some sort of comfort, but he knew it wouldn’t be welcome right now. Not until Yahaba asked for it himself. 

“It’s a little ridiculous that you just went along with it. Why didn’t you go to the authorities?” Yahaba grumbled against his legs. “Bullshit aside, this isn’t something you deal with alone, Ken. I just don’t  _ get _ it.” Yahaba’s eyes narrowed at him. 

Hearing the nickname from him, Kyoutani risked reaching a hand over to brush a finger along Yahaba’s arm. When it wasn’t shrugged off, he carefully pulled Yahaba back into his arms against his chest. Even after growing more in high school, Yahaba was still taller, but Kyoutani had gotten broader, and Yahaba fit so well in his arms. Like the partner piece of a puzzle. 

He rested his cheek against the crown of Yahaba’s head, and he closed his eyes, trying to will himself to relax so he could pretend they weren’t in some shitty dive of an apartment above a shady ass bar. So he could pretend they were  _ home _ . 

“I’ll apologize as many times as you want me to, but I was doing what I thought right to keep you safe. I’ll move again. Maybe spend a year or two in Kyoto so they won’t do anything to you.” 

Yahaba tensed in his arms, but he didn’t pull away. “You’ll leave? I see you after three years, and you’re going to just fuck me and run?” 

At the accusatory tone in Yahaba’s voice, Kyoutani felt his heart stop momentarily. His arms tightened around the other slightly. “I need to keep you safe. That’s what matters.” 

“And you think being hours away is going to keep me safe? If you’re doing what I think you’ve been doing, isn’t the safest place for me to be wherever you are?” 

“But if something happens-” 

“Then something happens. For some stupid reason Oikawa is probably going to berate me for, I’m willing to overlook the fact that you tossed my heart into a blender without even giving me any other option.” Kyoutani flinched, but didn’t look away when Yahaba pulled back to look up at him. “But I swear to whatever gods are listening, Kentarou. If I leave this shithole apartment for supper without you on the same page, I’m not coming back, and you aren’t welcome back in my life again.” 

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“The only one hurting me right now is you.” 

Kyoutani studied Yahaba’s face for a moment before dropping his head to rest on the other’s shoulder. “Tch. For such a pretty face, you sure are an asshole.” 

“Says the asshole.” Yahaba snorted before shifting carefully to be able to hold onto Kyoutani. “Is there running water in this place?” 

“Hardly, but I think it’s been long enough that you should be able to get a couple minutes of hot water in the shower.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why are you living like this?” He asked when Kyoutani didn’t answer. 

“Honestly?” He glanced down to Yahaba, who only looked at him expectantly. “Didn’t feel like I deserved any better.” 

Yahaba stared at him for a long moment at the honest answer. before carefully standing. Kyoutani watched him, not bothering to hide the open admiration he wore on his face. Even covered in bruises from his fingertips, bite marks and the hickies he’d made - maybe even especially because of them - Yahaba was a fucking sight for sore eyes.

“What?” 

“You’re beautiful.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Yahaba mumbled, turning quickly on his heel. He disappeared into the bathroom, but not before Kyoutani caught the flush across his cheeks. 

Kyoutani smiled a bit to himself before leaning back against the wall, his legs folding. 

“Oh hell no,” he heard Yahaba shout from the bathroom before bursting out of the door and pointing at Kyoutani angrily. “You are  _ not _ staying here. I still don’t forgive you, but you are moving the fuck back in and getting out of this dive.” Yahaba glared at him before disappearing back into the bathroom, the door rattling on its hinges when he shut it. 

Kyoutani watched the clock, waiting. As expected, not three minutes later he heard Yahaba’s frustrated shout, and the clunking of the pipes as he turned the water off. 

“Seriously,” Yahaba grumbled as he came out of the bathroom and grabbed his clothes off the floor, pulling them back on piece by piece as if it were the clothes that had ruined his shower. “Have you eaten today?”

Kyoutani blinked at the change of tone and looked at Yahaba, who was watching him expectantly. “I, uh, have a muffin from this morning?” he tried, gesturing to the bag on the small kitchen counter. 

Yahaba frowned at him. “That’s it? You plan on having a muffin? You haven’t actually put food in your face yet?”

Kyoutani scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing away. “I worked this morning, and was going to eat when I woke up, but uh…” He gestured vaguely towards Yahaba. 

“Work-” Yahaba’s lips pressed into a thin line, realizing what he meant. Kyoutani shifted under Yahaba’s stare. “I would like it if you came to supper with us,” he finally said, voice steady. 

“But-” 

“No. Don’t say something might happen to me. I could leave this building and get hit by a bus, and it would be by no doing of yours. The only way I see you being responsible is if you do it with your own hands.” 

“Yahaba…” 

“Shigeru,” he corrected, making Kyoutani look at him. He gave a thin, hopeful smile. “Please. Come to supper.” 

Kyoutani stood slowly. “I can’t guarantee I can get out.” 

“But you’ll try?”

After a moment, Kyoutani nodded. He grunted slightly at the impact of Shigeru all but throwing himself at him, but wrapped his arms around the other all the same. When they laid back down to nap at Shigeru’s insistence, they were tucked close together, unsure of where one ended and the other started.

He tried ignoring the way he could  _ almost _ feel the brand on his forearm, as though it were still burning.

 

* * *

 

Shigeru had not let go of Kyoutani’s hand from the moment they left his apartment until they got to the restaurant. It was like he was afraid Kyoutani was going to leave again if he didn’t personally keep him there. The thought twisted knots in Kyoutani’s gut. 

When they walked into the Italian restaurant, Kyoutani could see that the rest of the group had taken up post at a table along the wall, one side having a bench for seating instead of chairs. Matsukawa looked up and satisfaction briefly flashed across his face before he reached for his drink. Hanamaki stared at the two of them, following their movements across the restaurant and over to the table. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Shigeru said easily as he approached the table. 

“We?” Oikawa sounded confused before he twisted around in his chair. His jaw dropped when he saw Kyoutani, and he elbowed Iwaizumi sharply. 

“What the fuck, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi growled, rubbing his side before looking up. He dropped the napkin he’d been fidgeting with and his chair scraped loudly when he stood up to face them.

Kyoutani looked away, not wanting to see whatever anger or disappointment he was sure was on Iwaizumi’s face. He wasn’t expecting to be pulled roughly into a hug and pounded on the back. Shigeru snorted at his shocked expression before sitting down. 

“Where have you been, Kentarou?” Iwaizumi frowned, pushing back to hold Kyoutani at arm’s length and look him over as if there was something written to answer him.

Kyoutani set his hands on Iwaizumi’s arms, gripping them slightly to ground himself, shaken by the amount of relief he saw on the other’s face. “Long story.” 

“It better be to explain what you were thinking,” Oikawa snapped. 

Shigeru looked over to Oikawa then to Kyoutani and Iwaizumi. “Let’s eat,” he said calmly, waving a hand towards the table. He elbowed Matsukawa slightly forcing him and Hanamaki to move over before patting the spot next to him, looking at Kyoutani expectantly. 

Kyoutani squeezed Iwaizumi’s arms again, a bit more firmly this time, and nodded to him, knowing they would talk later, before making to sit beside Shigeru. 

“You look a lot more calm than I would expect, Shige-chan,” Oikawa sniffed, folding his arms across his chest and looking between the two of them with a frown. 

“Yeah, hate fucking really gets it all out on the table,” Shigeru responded calmly, handing a menu to Kyoutani whose face was burning. Across the table, Iwaizumi coughed into a fist, trying to hide his amusement.

Matsukawa snorted, glancing over to Hanamaki. “Told you it was a good thing we didn’t stick around,” he said. Hanamaki only grinned in response, for once not taking the opportunity to barb someone. 

“You saw him earlier and didn’t say anything?” Iwaizumi scowled at the two. 

“Technically I did.” Matsukawa shrugged. 

“You said it was a classmate. You didn’t say it was Kentarou.” 

“Told him not to,” Kyoutani cut in, his eyes studying the people in the restaurant, and those he could see on the street through the large windows. He hadn’t even opened the menu since Shigeru handed it to him.

The conversation was stopped when a waitress walked over to take their order. Everyone placed their orders in turn, then when the waitress’s attention turned to him, Kyoutani froze. He glanced down at the menu in front of him, frowning. Shigeru’s hand reached over to grip his gently.

“Just make it two of what I ordered,” he said, smiling at the waitress easily. 

She looked between the two with pursed lips but nodded and gathered the menus up. Her flats clicked against the tile on her way back to the kitchen to put in the order. 

Kyoutani looked over at Shigeru, squeezing his hand back before returning to watching their surroundings. So far it seemed like they were among typical restaurant-goers, and nobody had lingered outside the window for longer than would be necessary to decide if they felt like pasta that evening or not. 

“What happened to you?” Oikawa frowned at Kyoutani’s paranoia and distraction. 

“Tooru, now’s not the time,” Iwaizumi said sternly. Kyoutani could see his hands clenched into fists under the table.

“Why not? He wasn’t there to pick Shige-chan up off the floor. He shouldn’t get a free pass to waltz back in without an explanation.”

Kyoutani glared at the floor. Oikawa wasn’t wrong. What right did he have to be a part of their lives again? He had left because he thought it would keep them safe, but he had still  _ left _ . 

“He’s not getting a free pass. He’s still going to prove that he deserves a second chance. Regardless, what happens between us is  _ solely _ between us and if I say it’s worth trying again, then you can shut your pretty fucking mouth about it. Okay?” Shigeru smiled sharply.

Oikawa blinked in surprise, his jaw slack, then held his hands up defensively. “Fine. I just want to see you happy,” he huffed. 

Kyoutani looked at Shigeru, his hold on the other’s hand tightening slightly. He didn’t deserve Shigeru. He knew that. At least one person at the table was vocal in their agreement of that. He kept his hold on Shigeru’s hand, rubbing slow, comforting lines against it with his thumb. He could tell himself he was trying to comfort Shigeru from getting riled up by Oikawa, but he knew it was for selfish reasons, and that need to ground himself. To prove he wasn’t dreaming. 

Their food was brought out shortly after and the smell of it turned his stomach. It was hard to be interested in food when he still half expected someone to jump out from behind a table. He brought Shigeru’s hand up and kissed his knuckles before letting go so the other could eat. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the way Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchanged looks with Matsukawa and Hanamaki. 

While the other five started eating, Kyoutani watched the window. He had seen the same man walk by a few times, slowing down each time he passed the restaurant. His brow furrowed. Did he actually think he somewhat recognized that man, or was it just the paranoia? 

“Ken?” A hand touched his arm. 

He froze under the touch, entire body coiling in preparation of a fight. When the hand stayed on his arm, he slowly looked over to five sets of concerned eyes on him. He released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and shook his head. He forced his hands to unclench, flattening them along his thighs.

“Sorry,” he grumbled quietly. “Thought I saw somebody.” 

“From...work?” Shigeru asked cautiously. 

He grunted slightly in affirmation, looking back towards the window. He quickly scanned the street, thinking the man gone, then spotted him standing by the street sign as if waiting for the lights to change. The man’s eyes were focused on the restaurant window and Kyoutani knew that from where the man stood, their group would be visible. 

His phone started ringing in his pocket and when he pulled it out to glance at the screen, he saw that it was an unknown number. He looked back to the man by the street sign, and as he expected, the man had a phone to his ear. 

With a scowl, he accepted the call and lifted the phone to his ear. 

There was a moment of silence and then, “ _ come outside _ .” The line clicked dead and he watched as the man pocketed his phone and stood there waiting, staring at the restaurant.  

He looked back to Shigeru, seeing how pale he had gone, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Did I fuck up making you join us?” Shigeru asked, his voice shaking slightly. If Shigeru didn’t believe Kyoutani before, he certainly did now it seemed. 

Kyoutani took Shigeru’s face into his hands gently, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “No, baby,” he comforted, thumbs rubbing Shigeru’s cheeks. “Go straight home. I’ll figure this out. Can one of you stay with him until I get back?” He looked at the other four, surprised to see that all four nodded despite all having various degrees of confusion and concern on their faces. He pulled several bills out of his wallet, knowing there would be more than enough to cover, and tossed them on the table before walking out of the restaurant quickly. 

“Boss wants to talk to you,” the man said. There was something distinctly familiar about him, but Kyoutani couldn’t place it just then. 

It was happening faster than Kyoutani had wanted it to, usually preferring to have time to prepare himself for confrontation of any sort, but he supposed this would work, too. Not like he was given a choice here, either. Kyoutani looked over the man’s shoulder and saw Hisashi’s car pulled up to the curb. He pushed past the man and headed towards it. The man grabbed the back of his jacket when Kyoutani reached for the passenger door handle, and yanked him back. It clicked where he recognized the man from. 

“Dogs sit in the back seat.” 

Kyoutani scowled and turned, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt. He slammed the other against the side of the car and drove a fist into the man’s gut. Glaring, he shrugged his jacket back into place before sliding into the passenger seat. 

When the man fell into the back seat with a grunt, shutting the door behind himself, Hisashi spoke. “Boys, don’t get blood on the seats. I just had the car detailed.” His voice was cordial, pleasant even, but the look in his eyes said he wouldn’t hesitate to throw one of them out of the moving vehicle. 

Kyoutani grunted in acknowledgement before looking out the car window. It had been a long time since they’d blindfolded or knocked him out before taking him to the boss’s apartment. That said, he still didn’t know much about the boss beyond his name. Just that he was likely in his forties, had a penchant for expensive wines, and always seemed to have the fireplace in his apartment going no matter the time of year. 

Hisashi he knew even less about, but Kyoutani still preferred him to the boss. 

He thought back to the restaurant, and could feel his frown softening. It had been good to confirm with his own eyes that everyone was still okay. He hadn’t checked in on any of them since leaving, erring on the side of caution since he didn’t know who worked under the boss. After the pictures of Shigeru in class, he wouldn’t risk it. Maybe  _ he _ had fucked up by going to supper with them, but he would never put that blame on Shigeru. 

After driving for nearly twenty minutes in silence, watching the neon lights of the city flash by, they pulled into the underground parking for the boss’s ritzy apartment building. 

Kyoutani threw a glare at the man in the back seat before getting out of the car. Not bothering to wait for either of the men, he made his way across the parking level to the elevator. Hisashi stepping into the elevator next to him when the doors opened, but when the other man made to move a step forward, Kyoutani pushed him back with one hard shove to the centre of his chest. He glared at the man, mouth twisted in a silent snarl. Without breaking eye contact, he reached over and hit the ‘door close’ button on the elevator, watching until the doors closed and broke the eye contact. 

“Always such pleasant company,” Hisashi chuckled. His hands clasped in front of him and he stared in front of him. 

Kyoutani huffed a faint laugh of amusement before glancing off. It was a three minute and eighteen second ride to the top floor. 

Thirty-two steps to the end of the hall from the elevator. 

Eyes averted as a six-digit code was entered into a keypad outside of two large wooden doors. 

The routine helped steady his nerves.

Raito was sitting on one side of the large sofa that curved in front of the fireplace. A wine glass was perched next to his elbow on a small side table. There were three of Raito’s hired men around the room, trying to look intimidating. Trying, and failing, in Kyoutani’s opinion. 

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Kyoutani,” the man said, not looking over when the door was opened. Faking the niceties was also part of routine. His eyes followed the flame. He looked weary, Kyoutani thought. “Leave us,” he added after a moment, waving a hand dismissively as he glanced to the others in the room. “You as well, Hisashi.” 

Hisashi frowned at that, but did not question it. He bowed, only half as low as the other men in the room, then walked down a hall to their left, staying within the apartment if needed. 

“I’m tired, Kyoutani. Do you know why that is?” When Kyoutani remained silent, standing six steps in from the door with his hands clasped behind his back, Raito continued. “Nobody is loyal to me anymore, Kyoutani. Not any of my girls. None of my boys. Not my knives. Not even Hisashi. Are you loyal?” Cold eyes finally found their way to Kyoutani’s face, and had he not had the Day From Hell that’d been unending since he was eighteen, Kyoutani might have flinched under the weight of the stare. The man scoffed after a moment of studying Kyoutani and looked back towards the fire. “Of course you are. Dogs are always loyal.” 

Kyoutani could feel a tic work into his jaw at the comment, but he remained silent. He kept his gaze steady on the boss. The last time Raito had made allegations similar to this, he’d thrown someone through the window. Kyoutani liked this jacket. He’d just bought it. It’d be a shame to bleed on it so soon, he thought. And so he stood, waiting. 

“I have one more job for you. It’ll be the only job you work on for a while as it will require your complete focus. Your  _ complete _ focus, Kyoutani. Am I clear? I- Do you have something you want to say? You look like you have something you want to say.” 

Kyoutani rolled the words around his mouth slowly, trying not to delay the inevitable for too long lest Raito lash out. When the boss’s eyes narrowed, he finally spoke. “I want out.” 

There was a long moment of silence before the boss rose from the edge of his seat. He picked up his wine glass brusquely, almost sloshing some of the contents over the rim. “You,” he started slowly, taking his time to walk towards Kyoutani. “You want out? After all that I’ve done for you? With everything you owe me? You want out?” He dragged the last three words out, pointing aggressively at Kyoutani with each word. 

Kyoutani was playing with fire. He knew that. But he knew that there was no way he was going to emerge from this unscathed. He jumped into the flames. 

“I can thank you for so much as not killing me when I was just a kid one of your men kidnapped off the street. But frankly,  _ sir _ , I don’t owe you shit. I’ve completed every job you gave me without hesitation, and minded my damn business on the ones you didn’t.” Kyoutani kept his eyes on Raito, staying mindful of where the other man’s hands were. “I want out. And I want all of the information you collected on my family.” 

“You don’t ask for much, do you, Kyouken?” The man spit out. Kyoutani could see the way the other’s hands were shaking in his rage. “Well, tough shit. There is no  _ out _ from this. You’re here until I say you can  _ die _ .” 

Over the man’s shoulder, Kyoutani could see two empty bottles of wine, a third opened. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“And you’re going to kill Hisashi, so I don’t have to worry about that snake in my shadow any longer. Then you’re going to go home and wait until I call for you, like the good fucking dog that you are.” The man’s eyes narrowed. 

“No.” 

The man’s face contorted in anger. “No,” he echoed, lips curling into a hard sneer. “You belong to  _ me _ . You do not get to say  _ no _ . You work under me, and when I tell you to jump, you  _ jump _ .” 

Kyoutani didn’t move, trying to keep his face as neutral as his natural glare would allow. 

“Answer me!” Raito bellowed. He swung a punch, his fingers in a tight fist, still around the stem of his wine glass. A small wave of the red liquid stained Kyoutani’s jacket even as the glass shattered and sliced into it, also cutting up the man’s hand. He cried out, tucking his shredded hand to his chest. 

Ignoring the sting of broken skin, he pushed the older man back a few feet to give himself some space. He knew from rumours the sort of violence and carnage the boss was capable of. He had no intention of learning it firsthand. 

“You know what they say about aggressive dogs, Kyouken?” The man hissed through clenched teeth, a knife being flipped open in his uninjured hand. 

Kyoutani’s mind went blank as it often did when a mark fought back. His hands relaxed at his sides and he watched Raito advance. This he knew. This was as good as routine. 

Raito lunged, stabbing with surprising accuracy in his drunken state towards Kyoutani’s torso. Kyoutani swung an arm up, knocking the hand holding the knife away before aiming a punch at the man’s face. Raito’s head snapped back with a sickening crunch, blood pouring from a broken nose. The knife clattered to the floor a few feet away and Kyoutani kicked it further away. 

In the moment he had looked away, the boss lunged at him again. Kyoutani’s caught himself from falling and pushed back, throwing the man back. Raito staggered four steps then fell backwards over the edge of the couch. Kyoutani followed quickly and grabbed the man by the front of his blood-soaked shirt and dragged him up with his left hand. With a shout, his fist landed squarely beneath Raito’s eye, and he could feel the bones of the man’s face shattering under his knuckles. A wave of nausea overtook Kyoutani as, without the zygomatic bone to hold it in place, Raito’s eye fell out of the crushed socket and dangled against his bloody cheek from the optic nerve. 

He dropped Raito to the floor, and staggered several steps back out of reach. When the man didn’t get up, and Kyoutani couldn’t hear the blood-logged breath of the man any longer, his hands started shaking. 

He turned, ready to leave the apartment but stopped short, seeing Hisashi standing at the end of the hallway he had disappeared down earlier. He didn’t seem surprised by the blood on Kyoutani’s jacket, nor the blood that had pooled around Raito’s turned away face.

“He…” 

Hisashi waved with the envelope dismissively. “I believe you. Here.” He tossed the envelope at Kyoutani, who caught it easily. 

Kyoutani glanced to Hisashi before opening the envelope. He pulled out the pictures of his friends and a small USB flash drive. He looked back up to Hisashi in confusion. 

“I heard everything. Those are the only copies. Do with them what you will. I would rather my people be loyal than fearful.” 

“I don’t want to be one of  _ your people _ . I want out,” Kyoutani said with a scowl. 

Hisashi studied him for a strained moment before he nodded. Kyoutani’s shoulders dropped slightly in relief, but Hisashi held up a hand. “You will no longer be called to take on jobs. You can go back to your life. Nobody will bother you or your friends, and I will keep your name from being implicated in this whole mess,” he said waving the hand towards the body a dozen feet away. “But if there comes a time when I need to cash in on this favour, you  _ will _ pick up your phone for me. Understood?” 

Kyoutani grit his teeth slightly before nodding. 

“Good. Now help me clean this up. Fucking drunk.” Hisashi clicked his tongue in irritation. 

Looking down at the envelope and its contents in his hands, Kyoutani walked over to the fireplace. Without a second thought he threw everything in, and as the pictures melted, he turned to help Hisashi. 

The three men returned to the apartment shortly after to help dispose of the body. 

The last Kyoutani saw of Hisashi was when the man waved him out of the apartment, instructing one of the men to drive Kyoutani home.

 

* * *

 

 

It was well past midnight when Kyoutani finally stood in front of Shigeru’s apartment door. The clock in the lobby had said it was twelve-forty-two. How many times had he walked into this apartment -  _ their  _ apartment - without even hesitating? Shigeru’s pale face in the restaurant came to mind and he straightened up, finally knocking on the door. 

Almost as soon as he had stopped, the door swung open and Shigeru’s smiling face froze at the sight of him. He rubbed the back of his neck slightly, ignoring the way his knuckles pulsed with pain. 

“Sorry I’m so late…” 

“I’m just glad you’re home,” Shigeru responded quickly and, grabbing a part of Kyoutani’s jacket that wasn’t bloodied, pulled him inside.  

The apartment they had shared was easily four times the size of the dump he currently lived in. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom with a tub they had taken advantage of more often than not and a standing shower, a good sized kitchen that opened up onto the living room area, and two closets - one of which doubled as laundry, the machines stacked beside narrow shelves. It felt like home, with its warm colours and little knick-knacks that had been gathered throughout the years. The long wall in the living room was covered by a sizeable shelving unit filled with movies and books, as well as various sized frames that held years of memories. 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki were sitting on one side of the kotatsu, leaning against each other and comparing hands of cards. Oikawa had switched his contacts for glasses and was yawning against Iwaizumi’s shoulder who was rubbing his back with one hand, the other holding cards as well. 

When the door closed, they all looked up and started at the sight of the blood. 

“What the fuck happened?” Iwaizumi said, quickly pushing to his feet and dropping Oikawa. For once Oikawa didn’t whine; he was also scrambling to his feet. 

“Boss uh- stepped down at work.” Kyoutani shrugged a shoulder slightly and carefully pulled off his jacket, hissing slightly when it tore the clots out of the lacerations on his chest. He balled the jacket up and walked past them into the kitchen, dumping it into the garbage bin. “I fucking liked that jacket, too,” he mumbled with a scowl. 

Matsukawa snorted slightly before waving off the incredulous looks from the others, minus Kyoutani. “Sorry, just- really? You turn up out the blue after three years. Run off in the middle of supper leaving Yahaba spooked. Show back up covered in blood, and you’re worried about a  _ jacket _ ?” 

“It was a nice jacket.” Kyoutani blinked, as if it were really that simple. After a moment of staring at Matsukawa, they both broke and started laughing. When their laughter died down, he wiped a hand down his face with a quiet “ah, fuck” before looking to Shigeru. “Is it okay if I use the shower?” 

Shigeru nodded. “I’ll get you something to change into. First aid kit’s under the sink still.”

“You’re going to tell us what happened, right?” Iwaizumi asked, nudging his arm slightly.

At Kyoutani’s hesitation, Shigeru pushed him towards the bathroom gently. “Go. I’ll fill them in.” 

He nodded and went into the bathroom, feeling the weight of five sets of eyes on his back. The spot where his toothbrush used to be was unoccupied, and there was only one kind of body wash on the shelf by the shower now, but the bathroom looked more or less the same, too. He closed his eyes at the familiar smell of Shigeru’s shampoo before going to the sink and washing the blood from his hands, scrubbing hard to get it out from under his nails. He had wanted to leave so badly after helping to roll up the blood-soaked carpet around the body that he had left without properly washing himself. He paused to thank whatever lucky stars he had left that nobody had called the cops on him as he made his down the street, having gotten his old ‘colleague’ to drop him off at the end of the block Shigeru’s apartment was on. 

He peeled off his shirt carefully and bundled it up so the least amount of blood was exposed before fishing out the first aid kit. There was a knock at the door and he glanced up when Shigeru walked in with a change of clothes. He recognized them to be his from the selection he couldn’t fit into his duffel bag three years ago. Knowing that Shigeru hadn’t thrown them out made his heart do a backflip, which, given the fact that he was still bleeding, probably wasn’t the greatest thing. 

Shigeru grimaced slightly at the sight of the cuts and set the clothes down. He walked over and took the kit from Kyoutani’s hands, flipping it open to pull out the antiseptic wipes. “Dare I ask?” 

“Would you believe me if I said the guy punched me with a wine glass?” 

Shigeru’s hand stilled then he snorted slightly in laughter. “You know what? Yeah. I think I actually would. Is that what happened?” He glanced up briefly before looking back at what he was doing. 

“Well, he tried stabbing me, too. But that’s what this is from, yeah.” 

“Huh. No shit,” Shigeru said, distracted by moving to clean his knuckles next. 

Kyoutani stopped the other’s hands, holding them instead. He brought them up and kissed Shigeru’s knuckles before squeezing them gently. “I’ll be out quickly,” he said, nudging Shigeru towards the door lightly. 

Shigeru nodded and hesitated briefly by the door, looking like he was going to say something else before deciding against it. He shut the door quietly behind himself and Kyoutani looked up at the ceiling, exhaling slowly through his nose. 

This all felt too good to be true, and he worried when he would wake up. He’d had a lot of dreams like that the first few months he had left - dreams of being home with Shigeru and the others. Those nights he would wake up in a cold sweat, alone and disoriented. 

He went through the motions of his shower on autopilot, listening to the sounds of the apartment. Every now and then he’d hear a slightly raised voice, but the water made it difficult to pinpoint who it was exactly. Surprisingly, it was never Oikawa to raise his voice - Oikawa’s voice would be recognizable under almost any circumstance. His guess would be Iwaizumi, seeing as Hanamaki and Matsukawa weren’t usually overly talkative. 

He bandaged his knuckles and the cuts on his chest, which, thankfully, weren’t as bad as he had expected, before getting dressed. The jacket probably kept the broken glass from cutting too deep. That was a fucking good jacket. 

When he walked out of the bathroom, he hesitated under the sudden silence. The next thing he knew, he had a face full of Oikawa. 

“I’m so sorry, Ken-chan,” Oikawa said emphatically, hugging Kyoutani tightly. “I was so  _ mean _ earlier.” When Kyoutani finally started lifting his hands to pat Oikawa’s back, he was pushed back at arm length and stared at intensely. “Can you forgive me?” 

Kyoutani cleared his throat, looking at Oikawa, eyes still wider in surprise. “Uh- yeah, Oikawa. It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine! Oh, I could kill that man,” he snapped, crossing his arms. 

“Already did, don’t worry.” Kyoutani patted Oikawa’s arm tiredly before joining the others at the kotatsu, ignoring the look of surprise on Oikawa’s face. He slipped underneath next to Shigeru, head dropping to rest on his shoulder. 

“How many people have you killed?” Hanamaki asked, leaning into Matsukawa’s side.

Kyoutani waved a hand at the others when they tried to interrupt. “It happened. That’s not going to change, even if I don’t talk about it.” He looked over to Hanamaki. “Including Raito, twenty-six.” 

“And the dude who picked you up tonight?” 

“Hisashi. Right hand man. Boss now, I guess. Good guy, all things considered. Kind of reminds me of Iwaizumi.” 

There was a long moment of silence, and Kyoutani could feel himself relaxing against Shigeru. His chest and knuckles stung like a bitch, and there was still a dull ache in his jaw from where Shigeru had punched him, but he could almost start to recognize feeling content for a change. 

“So, are you back now? For good?” Iwaizumi looked over at Kyoutani, leaning forward against the table on his elbows. 

“Yes and no.” He could feel Shigeru’s shoulders tense underneath him, and he reached over to take his hand gently, lacing their fingers. “I won’t be taking any more jobs, and I don’t have to worry about anyone tailing any of you guys anymore, but Hisashi said he gets one call for keeping my name out of the mess with Raito. He’s not likely to use it unless something major happens. He never wanted me to be a part of this anyways. So I’m as good as back.” 

Shigeru lifted their joined hands, and pressed a kiss to his bandaged knuckles before giving him a small smile. 

“Good. Welcome home.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ [Three Years Later] _

Kentarou opened the flaps of the last cardboard box. Reaching in, he picked up the ugliest fucking gnome statue he had ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on and scowled. There was nothing cute or rosy about this gnome. It looked like it had seen some shit, with its dead eyes and lacklustre paint job. Were the eyes following him? Somewhere behind him, Shigeru laughed, probably at whatever expression was on his face. He tilted his head a bit when Shigeru stepped up behind him, looping arms around his waist and dropping his chin onto Kentarou’s shoulder. 

“We are never letting Makki and Matsun help us pack ever again,” he grumbled, showing Shigeru the ugly thing. “Where did they even get this thing? Is it from some flea market? Is it cursed? If I wake up to a damn gnome hovering over our bed I’m going to- what?” 

Shigeru muffled his laughter against Kentarou’s shoulder, squeezing his arms around his waist a bit tighter. He nuzzled his nose against the curve of Kentarou’s neck and pressed a kiss behind his ear before smiling. “We can sneak it into their apartment next time we go over.” 

“Good.” Kentarou smiled and shifted a bit so he could kiss Shigeru before dropping the gnome back into the box, although he wished it were actually the flames of hell where it was forged. “This is the last one, then we’re officially moved in.” 

“It can wait until tomorrow. We’re going to be late to our own party if you don’t hurry and get dressed.” 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Kentarou arched a brow, face schooled in a neutral expression. 

“Honey,” Shigeru started. He leaned back slightly, eyes darting over the paint-stained jeans and thin black-now-grey tank top that had also seen better days. “No.” 

At his tone, Kentarou couldn’t help it. He could feel the corner of his mouth twitch, then a full smile appear when Shigeru scoffed and clicked his tongue in irritation. He turned and smoothed his hands over the lapels of Shigeru’s blazer.

“We can’t all look as good as you,” he hummed, looking over the other. 

“As right as you are, we’re still going to be late.” Shigeru sounded less sure of himself when Kentarou’s hands slipped under the blazer and around his waist, pulling his hips close. 

“You sure we don’t have a couple minutes?” Kentarou leaned forward, tracing a line up Shigeru’s neck with small kisses, his hands slipping down to grip the other’s ass firmly. He let his voice drop into a husky timbre, finding that spot under Shigeru’s jaw that made his knees week. “You do look  _ really _ good.” 

He could feel Shigeru swallow heavily; feel the way Shigeru’s hands gripped at his arms. 

“N-no, we don’t,” Shigeru eventually breathed out. He pulled himself back a few steps, putting space between them. Kentarou grinned crookedly at how blown out his pupils were. “Your outfit’s on the bed.”

“I’d rather you were,” he responded easily, walking down the hall to their bedroom, keeping himself from laughing until he got in the room when he heard Shigeru’s frustrated groan behind him. 

As he put on the soft grey button up shirt Shigeru picked out, he listened to the other humming to himself in the living room, no doubt rearranging picture frames for the hundredth time. It had been a few months since he’d had an intrusive thought, or woken up from a nightmare. He hoped being in a completely new house would help keep them away for good. 

He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, careful to keep the old brand covered, and walked back out to the living room, stopping briefly by the wardrobe on his way past. He slipped his hands into the pockets of the black dress pants he wore, and smiled faintly, watching Shigeru pick something up, move it to another spot in the room, and then eventually move it back to its original spot after fidgeting with something else. 

“You know we don’t have to have everything perfect right away. We have time to make this place  _ home _ ,” Kentarou said softly, catching Shigeru’s elbow when he passed, pulling him to a gentle stop. 

“You’re right,” was the sighed response. Shigeru huffed out a breath, his bangs lifting slightly with it, before looking at his watch. “The cab should be outside. You look great.”

Kentarou hummed slightly in response, slipping his shoes on. “Might even look better than you tonight.” He managed to swipe up his keys, phone and wallet, and make it to the door before Shigeru squaked in offence and made to swat at him. 

He waited by the cab, a hand on the door as he watched Shigeru lock up and hurry down the stairs to them, smiling crookedly in amusement. 

“I’m kidding. Would never be able to compare.” Kentarou kissed Shigeru’s cheek before opening the car door for him. 

They had reserved a private room at Shigeru’s favourite restaurant to celebrate his recent promotion at work and the purchase of their new home. When they arrived, Kentarou noticed they were the last ones. Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and several of Shigeru’s coworkers were already seated in the private room around a long table. There was a chorus of greeting when they closed the screen door behind themselves, moving around to the free spot amongst their friends.

“Late to your own party,” Makki tutted in fake disappointment, shaking his head. “Hope it was worth it.” 

Kentarou glanced at the time on the wall and sat down with a snort. “We’re five minutes early from the time we agreed to meet, and no. It wasn’t worth it. Shigeru is being a prude.” 

Makki and Matsun laughed and turned to start teasing Shigeru about his saintly innocence.

Kentarou looked over to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. It had been almost two months since he had last seen the couple, work taking them out of the city on short notice. “Thanks for making it.” 

“Course.” Iwaizumi nodded to him, looking content as he leaned back in his chair, his arm stretched out and resting along the back of Oikawa’s. “You still working from home?” 

Kentarou nodded. “I took a couple of weeks off for the move, but that’s not really an issue. Being my own boss is pretty great.” 

“A stay-at-home husband who still brings in an income. It’s almost too good to be true,” Oikawa said with a pointed look at Iwaizumi, who only frowned and flicked his partner’s forehead.

Shigeru snorted, leaning in to their conversation. “No ring yet, Tooru. Maybe you can convince him?” 

Iwaizumi and Kentarou exchanged a look before Kentarou looked over at Shigeru, arching a brow. “You know, you’re just as capable of popping the question as I am.” 

Shigeru gasped with fake outrage, a hand on his chest. “I am the pretty one,” he declared. “You should woo me with romance and sweep me off my feet.” 

Kentarou snorted and wiped a hand down his face before looking back at him in amusement. “Or,” he countered. “I could wait until a night out when we’re surrounded by our family and friends and not put too much fanfare on it because trying to find a ring you would like and getting it sized without you finding out was enough of a pain. That and we both know you don’t actually give two shits about being swept off your feet because you already know you’re everything I could ever need, and I remind you every day how much you mean to me.” 

“Or that,” Shigeru sniffed dismissively then gawked when Kentarou set a small black box on the table in front of him. “Wait, what? No, no. Ken,” he whined, picking up the box with shaky hands. Inside the box was a white gold ring with two thin bands of rose gold framing it. Three small diamonds sat in the middle, flush with the surface of the band. On the inside of the band was an inscription Shigeru couldn’t quite make out in the dim lighting of the restaurant.

“You make every day brighter, and I couldn’t be more proud of you for following your dreams. We have a family,” he said, gesturing to their friends surrounding them. “We have a home, which I want to see you redecorate for the fifty-seventh time this week. I love you. What do you say?” 

“I haven’t moved things around  _ that _ much,” Shigeru said with a pout, looking close to crying. Though, to Kentarou’s relief, he wore a blinding smile. “Of course I’m saying yes, even though you just want to make me cry so Oikawa has a chance at being the best looking one in the room.” 

“Tonight’s all yours, Shige-chan,” Oikawa said with an honest smile, his arms wrapped around one of Iwaizumi’s. 

Kentarou chuckled slightly and picked the ring out of the box, slipping it onto Shigeru’s finger for him. He grunted slightly when Shigeru nearly knocked him off his chair with a hug, and held him close, listening to their family cheer around them. 

From somewhere on the other end of the table, one of Shigeru’s coworkers said, “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard Kyoutani talk in one go.” 

“It probably was,” Matsun responded. “I still think he should have put a chicken nugget in the box instead.” 

Makki nodded sagely. “Yes, nugs are life.” 

Iwaizumi reached over the table and swatted at both of them with a scowl. 

Shigeru laughed into Kentarou’s shoulder. “I would have gotten up and walked out. Still would have said yes, but who the fuck does that?” 

Without hesitation, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Kentarou and Makki all pointed at Matsun, who held his hands up defensively. 

“It was memorable! At least I didn’t put the ring  _ in _ the chicken nugget.” 

“Oh my god. Moving on. Can we order food? Rearranging picture frames is really hard work.” 

Iwaizumi snorted and got up to flag down a server.

“I love you,” Shigeru said quietly, looking to Kentarou. For a moment the restaurant fell away and it was just the two of them.

From Shigeru’s left came a gagging sound and they looked over to see Makki and Matsun pulling faces, mumbling about cavities. 

“You two were the first married out of any of us, so you guys can can it.” Oikawa scowled, pointing at them with narrowed eyes.

“You guys  _ were _ pretty gross for the first while,” Iwaizumi hummed in agreement. 

“Okay, okay,” Makki conceded, waving his hands. “Let’s not keep this lovely lady waiting, and order already.” He gestured to the server who was waiting patiently. 

As if on queue, Kentarou’s stomach growled loud enough for half the table to hear, and the server was given their full attention. 

The night carried on, filled with enough laughter and warmth that it almost made up for the three years Kentarou had without it. It wasn’t until they were already back in the cab heading home that Kentarou was able to slow down and just appreciate the weight of Shigeru leaning into his side, a little bit tired, a little bit drunk, and very much running on the high of the evening. He brushed Shigeru’s bangs out of the way, pressing a kiss to his forehead gently. The way Shigeru smiled up at him after warmed his heart. 

On their way up the short path to their front door, Shigeru smirked back to Kentarou. 

“You know, Ken, if you ask nicely, you can see me in nothing but the ring.” 

Kentarou snorted at the way Shigeru wiggled his eyebrows, and he nudged him towards the front door gently. “Have to get inside first,” he reminded Shigeru. While the other was fitting the key into the lock, Kentarou stepped back with a frown, hearing his phone ringing in his pocket. 

“Are you coming?” Shigeru asked, stepping into the house. 

“In a minute.” He waved Shigeru ahead, but the other lingered in the doorway, eyes darting to the phone Kentarou pulled out the way they always did when it rang. 

[ _ Incoming Call: Hisashi _ ]

  
  



End file.
